


Through The Trees

by Iforgotmyformerusername



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, This is sad stuff so be prepared, hurt without comfort basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iforgotmyformerusername/pseuds/Iforgotmyformerusername
Summary: "Normally it was them chasing the murderer, to see the roles turned around like this was unsettling at the very least."





	Through The Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this is sad. As mentioned in the tags.  
> You may kill me in the comments.

Normally it was them chasing the murderer, to see the roles turned around like this was unsettling at the very least.

Morse didn’t want to give up hope, but he knew getting out of this forest was going to be hard. The tense jaw and balled fists told him Thursday thought the same. The murderer behind them had played this game a bit too often, he knew this forest a bit too well. And, not entirely unimportant, he was carrying a gun. They had nothing but hope and fear to go on.

But on they went, stumbling through the forest, through bushes and grass, over logs and roots, and getting more and more tired by the minute. There was no telling how far the trees ahead of them stretched out, how much further they needed to go before they would make way for the city.

The ground was hard under Morse’s feet and the trees seemed to take every opportunity they had to scratch at his arms and face. Every breath he took burned in his lungs, like thousands of tiny needles finding joy in poking them over and over again. That was nothing compared to the fear he felt however. It twisted his stomach and froze his blood. It crept up in the cold winter air and clouded his mind with fog.

But he needed to keep going. _They_ needed to keep going.

No backup was coming to help them out of this mess, that much was certain. They had walked right into the same trap that had claimed the lives of four others and had been stupid enough not to notice before it was too late. It had landed them right in this nasty situation.

The worst part was that Thursday was injured. Morse saw him struggling to keep up. There was blood leaking through a wound in his shoulder, the strain of it all unmistakably etched on his face. Something had to be done about that, Morse knew. But for now the biggest priority was getting as far as possible, and hoping, _hoping_ with all their hearts they wouldn’t end up like the people in the pictures that decorated the wall back at the station.

* * *

Patrick James had been the first victim. He was found in a forest not too far from his house with a bullet in his brain. According to his parents, Patrick always went out for a walk when he was upset. This was, to their knowledge, the first time he had gone to the old forest however. Suicide was immediately ruled out, the murder weapon was nowhere near. It was evident from the torn clothes, scratches on his face and a shoe left behind some 6 feet away, that he had been running for his life.

For days the team searched for whoever had done this, but there was hardly anything to go on. Until four days later in the same forest a man named Aharon had been found. Shot in the head, just a few miles from the spot Patrick had been. And two days later Lydia was found. Apart from their similar death, there was nothing that linked the three together. None of them had been there before, and both Patrick and Lydia had been running away from something, or more likely, someone before they died.

The forest was a complete maze as well, which made the search a lot harder. The PC’s who were searching the area for clues had all been handed local maps to help them find their way through. The victims had either been lured or brought into the forest, but since none of the bodies showed signs of a struggle or sedative, the likelihood of the murderer luring their victims to the forest increased.

It wasn’t until Jordan Peterson died and the entire forest had been checked _twice_ , that Morse had found something. Talking to the people who lived near the forest had revealed that the current map was a new one, made because the other had been almost 20 years old, from a time in which the forest wasn’t such a maze and there were still people hiking through the trees. Comparing the old map and the new one had seemed useless at first, the only big difference was the absence of pathways on the new map, they had all been overgrown by plants since. But when Morse had put one on top of the other, he saw there was a small detail they had overlooked. The new map showed the area of the forest to be slightly smaller than the old one. The left far corner had been removed. Only mere millimetres on the map, but in reality the area engrossed about 2 miles.

It could just be a couple of dead trees and nothing more, most at the station seemed to think so, but Morse had wanted to go and check it out anyway. Thursday had joined him, always one of the few who thought he might be on to something. Together they had made their way to the undiscovered corner on the map, hoping to find a clue that would lead them to the killer.

But no clue was found. And no murderer either. Instead, after miles of walking through the forest, the murderer had found _them_.

 

**X**

 

With a gun pointed to his head, Thursday had no choice but to drop his own and kick it away.

“What do you want?” He asked, voice gruff.

“Just a bit of fun, that’s all. It’s good to know my trap works for coppers as well.” The man was tall and slender, dark hair matted against his scalp. Morse didn’t recognize him from the search, had they missed him? What was his connection to the victims?

“Who are you?” He asked warily.

“Victor Lombrey is the name they gave me, pleasure to meet you.” The man introduced himself and casually lowered his gun again. It struck Morse as odd, either Lombrey was careless, or just really confident.

“What trap is this then?” Thursday asked. “All I see is some trees and a lunatic with a weapon.”

“Why yes, and you two of course. Standing right at the exact same spot the last four were as well. Don’t you think that’s a funny coincidence?”

“Not really.”

“That’s because it isn’t. I lured them here the same way I lured you.”

Morse saw Thursday furrow his brow. “And how do you suppose you did that?”

“Now now detective, can’t you work that out on your own, it’s your job isn’t it? What is the most simple method of getting someone where you want them?”

This time it was Morse who answered. “You either threaten them, or promise them something they really want.”

“Exactly! Now, threatening people is a bit dull, anyone could do that. But if you lure them with something they want… They basically set the trap for themselves! And guess what? _You_ really want to solve the crime, that’s why you’re here. Genius no?”

Genius wasn’t the word Morse would’ve used, ‘insane and needlessly complicated’ would be more fitting. He wondered if there was something else that drove this man. Ambushing people who came here not knowing what was waiting for them... he couldn’t just be doing this for fun, right? Then again, he wouldn’t be the first one.

Lombrey snickered as he gestured around him. “And this place is perfect, no one ever ventures as far as this, and this forest holds no secrets for me. This spot technically doesn’t even exist since the new map was made.”

Thursday eyed him warily. “So you lure your victims here, telling them they’ll get whatever it is they want, and then kill them?”

“Well, yes it’s only fair, don’t you think? They get what they want, and I get what I want.” The man raised his gun again, a glimmer of joy in his eyes. “And now that you know who’s behind this all, it is my turn.”

Morse would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. Anyone in the right mind would be. Hell, probably even Thursday was. In the hands of someone unafraid of killing, without a way of defending yourself... Not that the DI showed any fear of course.

Both detectives shared a look, knowing they had to find a way to get out of here.

“Why are you doing this?” Morse asked quickly, stalling time.

“Why? Because too few people realise that there are consequences to our actions. And that some can be very deadly indeed.” Morse guessed the man was trying to grin again, but it had become something more like a grimace.

So he had been right, there was a story behind the man’s actions. If there hadn’t been a gun pointed at them, Morse might’ve asked.

“But enough talk.” Lombrey said. “I’m going to enjoy watching the light leave your eyes. Now who’s first? The youngest I’d think.”

As the gun was shifted to Morse, Thursday saw his chance and reacted quickly. Taking a quick step forward he went to slam the gun out of the man’s hands. Lombrey didn’t let go, but the punch on his arm did bring him out of balance, and the bullet destined for Morse missed him by inches.

The man cursed and swung his gun around, nearly colliding with Thursday’s head. He ducked however, and now Lombrey had Morse to worry about as the young man tried to pry the weapon out of his fingers. Lombrey snarled and two shots rang out.

With a start Thursday’s head shot up, seeking the face of his bagman to make sure he was alright. Morse stared back with wide eyes, clearly startled, but not injured. Thursday breathed a sigh of relief. The bullets hadn’t hit anyone, but it was immediately clear that they had no way of winning against a gun.

He backed off and saw Morse do the same. It wasn’t as if they had any other choice, Lombrey was stronger, or maybe angrier, than anticipated.

“Now that I have your attention..” The man growled.

Without backup Morse knew there wasn’t much that they could do. With a glance at him, he saw Thursday had realised it as well. They could either play along, which at this point would mean certain death, or they could run and hope for the best. The trees would cover them, if they got enough time to turn and get behind them.

Thursday nodded slightly, and Morse knew what to do. Ignoring the pounding of his heart, he spun on his heels and as quick as he could, ran for cover behind the trees. From out the corner of his eyes, he saw Thursday do the same. Lombrey reacted immediately though, as if he had been waiting for this to happen. A shot rang out and was follow by a pained moan. Thursday’s voice.

With his heart in his throat Morse spun around again, standing still between the trees, frantically searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the DI. Then more shots rang out and bullets started raining down around him. Just at that moment, Thursday emerged from the trees, a hand clutched at his shoulder where the fabric of his coat was turning red real quick.

“Let’s get out of here!”

Releasing the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, Morse turned and ran.

* * *

 

They had no idea how far Lombrey was behind them or how long it would take him to catch up. It could happen anytime, or they could still be 10 minutes ahead of him.

The other victims head also been running- it suddenly occurred to Morse that he might’ve even counted on it. Trapping them in this maze of trees, chasing them like a cat would chase a mouse. It was a ridiculous idea, but then again, Victor Lombrey did strike Morse as the kind of man who might think of something like that. The man was arrogant, which _an sich_ wasn’t all that unusual in killers, but the way he carried himself left no room for doubt, Lombrey was sure he was unbeatable, he was certain he would win this game of his. And Morse wasn’t so convinced of the contrary anymore.

Minutes had passed and running was getting harder. He noticed Thursday was falling behind, without a doubt slowed down by the bullet in his shoulder. Nevertheless, they had gotten farther than Morse had expected.

Ignoring the fear that screamed at him to keep running, he stopped, allowing Thursday to catch up.

“I’m alright.” The DI managed between gulps of breath as he came to a stop near his bagman, who was looking at him worriedly. He was breathing heavily and winced as he leaned against a tree for support. Worry rose in Morse as he looked upon the ashen coloured face of the DI.

“You’re not.” He murmured, and with a bit of effort, ripped off a stroke of the bottom of his shirt. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

But as he walked with it to Thursday the older man swatted it away. “Leave it. Go on, I- I’ll catch up.”

Morse shook his head. “We’re going to get out of this sir, both of us.” He tried not to let the panic in his voice betray how little faith he had in his statement, but wasn’t sure it was successful.

He tied the cloth around Thursday’s shoulder, ignoring the huff of pain as he did so.

When he finished he took a deep breath to get his own breathing steady again, although he couldn’t quite seem to manage it. He glanced behind him, alert for the slightest sound that would mean Lombrey was onto them.

Thursday looked at him and took a breath as well. “Ready to go on?”

Morse nodded, he was more than ready to leave this forest behind them.

The time of running was long past however and it wasn’t long before they had to resort to walking. Adrenalin could keep them on their feet for only so long.

Thursday’s step was still getting slower and eventually Morse put his arm under his to support him. Although it didn't help them to go any faster, it did keep them going and at the moment that was all that mattered.

Breathing was getting harder by the minute, and his legs were protesting loudly, but as long as they kept going, they could get out of this. Morse forced his legs forwards, step by step. How they had not been discovered yet could be called a miracle. But no matter how nice it sounded, Morse did not believe in miracles. Never had again after his mother died, and not now either.

Had they really lost him? Had they outran him, or had he just given up, not knowing where they were going after all? He really wished he could hope so, but he also knew the man had found Patrick and Lydia as well, and that the chance he would give up on looking for them was small. Where was he then?

A shiver ran down his spine as he realised there was another possibility. He looked around at the trees with wide eyes. Had Lombrey already found them, watching, waiting, to see how far they’d come? How far they could walk before collapsing from sheer exhaustion? But no, he shook his head, that was highly unlikely. The delusions fear could give you... But whatever the situation, one thing was for sure- they needed to get out quickly.

As they stumbled on, Thursday started to lean heavier on his shoulder, his breathing getting more laboured as Morse grew more worried.

“Sir?” He eventually asked, hoping against reason to hear Thursday say they would be alright, that they’d be warm and safe before the evening falls. To hear him say _something_ that would convince Morse the DI would be alright.

He muttered something. What exactly, Morse couldn’t discern, but at least it was better than hearing nothing at all. And his feet were still walking along, Morse focused on that instead of letting panic blind him completely. They were still walking, they could still make it out. Right?

But dragging himself forward as well as carrying the weight of someone else was tough, and soon he could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears. His vision was swimming, transforming the forest into a green hush with blurred lines. It reminded him of that time he had almost fallen asleep behind the wheel and crashed the car. He snickered. That seemed a lifetime ago now.

Then something grabbed his foot and the world started to tilt. Before he realised what happened he had brought them both down on the cold ground with a heavy thud.

Slain by a tree root.

Wonderful.

He lay there for a few seconds, his breathing hard and ragged, wondering if it was worth it to get up again. But harsh coughs somewhere on his right brought him out of his trance. There was a job to be done, he needed to get Thursday and himself out of here. Lombrey could be here any moment now.

The wave of fear was like a cold splash of water to his face. He turned to the man at his side and saw that the makeshift bandage had done little to stem the flow of blood.

“Sir?”

The DI lay on his back, his eyes closed, the only sign he was alive the rapid rising and falling of his chest. Morse put his hands on the wound, a desperate attempt to prevent any more blood loss, although a voice in the back of his mind told him that at this point it was nothing more than an useless gesture. He ignored it. He wasn’t going to lose Thursday, not today and not like this. He had survived more than once when on the brink of death and this time wasn’t going to be any different.

He dared to glance over his shoulder to look at where they had come from. There still was no sign of Lombrey anywhere, and hope rose in his chest. Could they make it out after all? Maybe the end of this forest was nearer than they thought.

“Sir please, we have to go on.” He put a bit more pressure on the wound, hoping to get a reaction.

And he did, Thursday’s eyes fluttered open, though Morse could see he was in pain and had trouble staying awake. The older man opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by more coughs.

Morse looked over his shoulder again. Still no one, but for all they knew Lombrey could be hiding behind a tree, ready to strike. The cold grip of fear took hold of him once again and automatically he looked at Thursday for reassurance.

Not for the first time the realised the DI had been something of a mentor to him in his time at the station, maybe even more of a father figure than his own dad had been. A friend in times when he desperately needed one. Of course they had had their disagreements from time to time, but when it came to it, Morse knew he could trust Thursday. He had more than once gotten him out of nasty situations, and had always a word of encouragement ready for him.

But not today. Today the only words the DI said, between shuddered breaths, did nothing to bring peace and reassurance. Instead they shattered his heart.

“I won’t make it.”

Morse stared at the man in shock. There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for this. No amount of books or information could have made those words bearable.

“No- we’ll get out of this, you’ll see!” He stood and tried to hoist his friend up, if he could he would drag him all the way through the forest. To home, where they’d have a pint and a nice meal and they’d be alright, they’d be alright.

Thursday groaned. “Lad, listen, it’s no use. It’s too late for me anyway.”

“No.” It was nothing more than a whimper as his knees gave way and he had to lower the DI on the ground again.

Thursday grabbed his hand and inhaled sharply. “You can- you can still make it.”

Morse shook his head, tears burning his eyes. He refused to believe that this was actually happening. This _could not_ be happening. They were so close! He wanted to shout, to shake some sense in Thursday and make him see that they _had_ to go on, they had to. But a lump in his throat prevented him from speaking, so he just shook his head again, hardly noticing the taste of salt on his lips.

“You have to lad,” A shuddered breath. “you have to.”

Morse knew he was squeezing his hand too tightly, but it felt as if he let go of that, he would’ve lost everything.

“And take- take care of Win and the kids for me alright?”

Oh gods. Win, Joan, Sam. A sob escaped his lips. Morse had always been welcome in their family, had been there quite a few times now. The warmth there was something he remembered from before his mother had died and he had cherished it. It would never be there again. It would leave their house as it had left his all those years ago. If he could, he would do anything to prevent that from happening.

He nodded, wiping away the tears with his free hand. “I will, I will, don’t worry.” His voice cracked.

Thursday smiled. “You’re a good lad. We were lucky... to have you.”

The passing of one’s life is such a silent thing. As subtle and swift as the lightest breeze of wind, while the event more often than not leaves a storm in its wake. A storm that can tear anything to pieces, relationships as strong as houses and people as hard as stone. It can blow away all happiness and joy from a life. And you know that no matter what you do, the world will never look exactly the same again after the event.

This, Morse had experienced before, and he went through it all again when the hand holding his grew weak and the light left the eyes of the man who had become his friend. It was as if it took all the light in the world with it, leaving nothing but darkness behind.

For a while he could only stare at the face of the man who had taught him so much. He wanted to wake up -to wake up and realise it had been nothing more than a bad dream, even though he knew he wouldn't. It was all too real. It felt too real. Shaky hands moved to close the eyes of his friend. He could do at least that much.

It was as if that simple action flipped a switch, anger bubbled up and soon washed away the remaining traces of shock. Anger at that _monster_ -Morse simply couldn’t see him as something else- that had shot Thursday, that had trapped them here and chased them like bloody prey. Anger at Thursday for dying, for leaving him behind here in this maze. But above all, he was angry at himself. For in the end, it was he who had thought of this bloody _brilliant_ plan of just walking in here. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility of a trap, of the possibility the murderer might still be here. How many times had they told him to think before he rushed headfirst into danger? Of course he hadn’t listened. And Thursday had followed him, _trusting_ that he wouldn’t lead them into a dangerous situation without first giving it a good thought. He had trusted him, and Morse hadn’t even been able to safe him.

Gods, that hurt. He had let him down.

He let out a cry, desperate and grieving. Just like that, his anger melted and made way for despair. He wondered if it mattered if Lombrey heard him. He wondered if it mattered that he should be on his way instead of sitting here, grieving for a lost comrade. It probably didn’t. Not to him anyway. It may have mattered to Thursday but-

No. Morse had to stop himself.

He was way too familiar with that line of thought and that was not how this was going to go. He wiped the tears off his face and rose to his feet. He was going to get out of here. If only for Thursday. If only for Win, and Joan, and Sam. He had promised to look after them, and he would.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. A few steps away, lying in the dirt, was Thursday’s hat. It had probably landed there when they had made their descend to the ground. Morse picked it up and brushed the dirt off it. He didn’t have much time to waste, but he could spare a few seconds for this.

It took a few good looks around, but then he found what he was looking for: some small white flowers that were growing near the trees. He plucked one. Earlier, before they had encountered Lombrey, he had spotted them already, small dots of beauty within the depths of the forest. It somehow felt fitting to leave one behind with Thursday now.

With the hat in one hand, and the flower in the other, he returned to the body of his friend. He put the hat on top of his chest, and laid the flower against it. It was all he could do right now. A last homage.

And just like that, he was on his way again. On his own, this time. His heart was heavy and fresh tears threatened to spill, but he couldn’t turn around, no matter how much he wanted to. Mind blank, he just kept running in a straight line, hoping it would lead him to the road and not deeper in the forest.

It didn’t take long before his legs failed him however, and he was forced to stop again, a hand on the trunk of a tree to rest. He desperately wanted to sit down, but he knew that if he did there was a small chance he would get up again.

As he tried to get his breath back, a few stray tears made its way down his cheek. Morse told himself it was because of the pain and exhaustion. Surely the end of this damned forest would be near?  

“Where is your dear friend, boy?”

As though stung by a wasp Morse spun around, breath catching in his throat.

Lombrey.

There he stood, between the trees, looking calmly at him as if they were old friends who happened to run into each other. Anger overruled fear as the man grinned, the kind of smile that said ‘ _victory’._

“What do you think you’re doing?” Morse shouted, cursing inwardly as his voice wavered. “You won’t get away with this.”

But the grin didn’t disappear, instead the man just shook his head. “Such ferocity, and what for? We both know the ending to this tale.”

“You won’t win.”

“I already have you fool.” He sneered. “You aren’t the first ones who’ve tried this trick. It’s fun to see how far everyone comes, but the ending is no different.”

The man sighed, seemingly irritated as he waved around with the gun he was holding. “I have to say though, you kind of disappointed me, I expected you to come farther.” He licked his lips, then shrugged. “Then again, it could be worse. There was one who didn’t even try running, boring man that was.”

So it was a game after all, a show of power. Morse was disgusted, killing innocents, killing _Thursday_ for the sheer fun of it? “You’re mad!”

“I, mad? You were the ones coming here, I’m merely taking opportunities. No one gets out of this forest anyway. Granted, you two were supposed to die back there, but once you did run, well…” He gestured at where they stood. “Can’t say it’s boring.”

Morse scoffed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was an whole new kind of insane.

“This is where it ends though. For you that is.” Lombrey told him as he pointed the gun at him.

But Morse had been through too much that day to be that easily intimidated. “No,” he said, blinking back tears and raising his chin in the air just slightly. “Even if you kill me now, there’ll be police officers looking for you all over. We-“ His mind wandered to Thursday but he pushed the thought of him away. “We found you, they will as well.”

“Dear boy,” Lombrey sighed again, “you forget, it was _I_ who found _you_ , not the other way around. Besides, there’s only one of you here now. Seems to me you’ve done a pretty poor job.”

Morse gritted his teeth. “I’m here though, ain’t I?”

The man laughed. The sound was low and hollow, more a taunt than a genuine laugh. “Yes, yes you are, very admirable. You won’t be much longer though.” He said, a grin still on his face. “But don’t you worry, I’m sure your friend the detective inspector is preparing a nice welcoming committee up there.”

A growl not completely unlike that of an animal escaped his throat as Morse leapt towards the man, ready to tear him to pieces with his bare hands. He couldn’t as much touch him though, before the barrel of the gun was pressed against his chest and he had to step back again.

“How dare you.” He hissed.  

“Now, now, I don’t really think you’re in the position to make threats, do you? But your loyalty to a dead man is touching, really.”

Whether it was his anger or the fact that he had nothing left to lose that made him act so rashly he would never know. Morse grasped the barrel of the gun and twisted around it, so the gun was pointed towards empty air instead of him. Within seconds, he had elbowed Lombrey in his face, loosening the man’s grip on the gun. He recovered quickly however and soon they were both struggling to pull the weapon out of each other’s hands again. Lombrey kicked and hit Morse’s knee, but although his step faltered, his fingers were still holding on to the weapon in a dead grip, knowing he was lost if he let go now.

Morse practically threw himself at the murderer and managed to knock him off his feet, sending them both down on the ground in a bundle of arms and legs, both reaching for the trigger. One gunshot went off, the bullet harmlessly connecting with the grass on the ground. It was unclear who had actually fired, both reaching and pulling and kicking to get a hold of the weapon. Then a second, and third shot rang out and Morse heard Lombrey grunt. Did he get him? It definitely seemed so!

Red tingled between the maze of limbs, and hope flowered within Morse’s chest. He would get out of here, he-

He had let his guard down. Convinced by the conviction that Lombrey would be weakened by the bullet, his hands loosened the grip on the gun just slightly. A fatal mistake, one he only realised he had made when the fourth shot rang out. Pain erupted from his chest and he inhaled sharply. His heart sank, and that last sniff of hope died out as he fell down on his side.

Lombrey scrambled away from him, gun now completely back in his possession. “You- you bastard!” He shouted, the stoic mask giving way to raw anger and fear.

Morse missed it though, he was too busy fussing about the gunshot in his chest and stemming the blood that flowed from it. It reminded him too much of what had happened just before this, it reminded him too much of Thursday dying and panic took a hold of him. He was going to die as well. He couldn’t save Thursday and he can’t save himself either and, and..

His heart was hammering in his chest and spots danced before his eyes. The pain was spreading over his whole body. It burned as if he was on fire, but at the same time he felt cold, cold as ice.

He vaguely registered Lombrey limping away, hands clutched at his thigh, but that suddenly seemed so irrelevant. Stemming the bleeding was a priority, but it was nearly impossible. The warm thick liquid oozed through his fingers way too fast. It didn’t keep him from trying however. And gods, it _hurt_. The smell of blood drowned all other smells the forest held, and his lungs were burning, causing his breathing to become shallow and fast.

Now more than ever, he wished Thursday would be here. He would’ve had the right words, he would know what to do. Together, they might even have won. A sob escaped him. Had he failed him? Had he failed Thursday by dying, by letting _him_ die?

“Oh Christ.”

He was crying again. Surely he would forgive him, right? Pain flared up in his chest again, and he gasped. He tried to put more pressure on the wound, but his strength was fading and his hands were slippery from the blood. He rolled on his back, finding that that took a lot less energy, and watched the leaves dance softly in the wind, leaving behind a false impression of peace. His hands fell to his side, he had no energy left to keep trying to safe his own life. It was useless anyway.

Somehow Morse had always known he would die alone. There was a time in which he had thought differently, a time in which the future had seemed bright and a lot less lonely. But the girl he loved had left him. And then Thursday had come around, and with him Win, and Joan and Sam. They had made him feel what it was like to be part of a family, if only for just a little while.

With a sinking feeling he realised he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his promise to Thursday. He wouldn’t be able to check on his family for him. An unfamiliar PC would be the one breaking the news now, would tell them they’ll never see their father and husband again. Once again tears were trickling down his face, reaching the grass beside his ears. He hoped they could forgive him for not being able to save Thursday. And he hoped Thursday could forgive him for not being able to be there for them.

Shivers shook his body, but the pain was already fading. Many times in the past, he had wished himself dead, but now that he was looking death in the eye he was honestly afraid of what was coming.

Afraid and alone, was that the way he was going to go then? Killed by the man he should’ve caught. He would kill again, and Morse wouldn’t be able to stop him. He wouldn’t be able to prevent more families falling apart, more people broken, mourning for the ones they had lost.

He closed his eyes and couldn’t help but wonder, as the world around him faded away and his heart finally decided it had had enough, if there was someone who would mourn him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> what have I done


End file.
